


Spoils of the Hunt

by JackisWack



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Comtesse Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, F/F, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, eventual Mercymaker, more tags will be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-07 00:20:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14659272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackisWack/pseuds/JackisWack
Summary: The Huntress stumbled upon the Witch and from that moment on, everything changed





	Spoils of the Hunt

**Author's Note:**

> First post, Hope it's not terrible.
> 
> I would like to thank the brilliant Reynarius for helping me a lot through the entire process, Wouldn't have been posting this if it wasn't for them!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment about anything you did or didn't like, I'll be sure to read them.

The forests of Aldersbruun in the dead of winter could be described as many things, Harsh, daunting, and unyielding. The wood would groan under the weight of snow, echoing throughout the thicket unheard. There was an almost suspicious amount of peace in the isolation.

So too could be said for the Huntress who called these lands her home. A countess by her own right but now nothing more than a lonely widow since the untimely passing of her husband Gerard. Their unity would have made Amélie the next in line for the throne, yet rumours surrounding her sexuality had tainted her chances of that years ago. 

Not that the world believed Amélie Lacroix was even still alive to claim it.

Two years ago Aldersbruun had been victim to a series of brutal Vampire attacks, and Amélie had a played a big part in halting the mass slaughter and draining of innocent civilians. But not without paying the price.

The vampires had not taken kindly to the mindless slaughter of their brethren and so even with their numbers so few, sought vengeance against Amélie for what she had done. Outmatched, even for a hunter of her skill, she was left to die in the forest without another soul in sight.

But somehow, she had survived. One day on the brink of death, and the next with healed wounds on the doorstep of her chateau with no memory of how that came to be. Amélie had not stepped foot inside its doors for many years.

It had been the moment she realized that isolation would be her only savior, which is why to this day she had remained in these darkened woods - alone. She had built a simple routine in these two years, hunting for the food that she could not grow herself.

Amélie had set off earlier on this day, stalking the woods for any beast that might restock her food supplies. The harsh winter kept the Huntress inside for over a week and she began to hunger. Her patience paid off as a grand elk crossed her vision, instinctively she brought her rifle up to its resting position. Lining her sights up over the beast, it would be a merciful kill - quick and efficient. Just as she was taught.

Yet as Amélie squeezed the trigger, the sounds of distant gunfire rang out and startled the beast. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the elk retreat back into the safety of the thicket.

“Merde.” She cursed, filling the silence of the forest. Displeased with her efforts today the Huntress made her way back to her horse. Still ever hungry, but not wishing to spend more time than what was needed in these woods. 

It was not uncommon for other hunters to be out here, the woods were home to many beasts, nothing for which Amélie had not personally hunted before.

The crunching of snow beneath her boots was all Amélie could hear as she made her way back to her horse. The gunshots had startled him, anxiously stomping the snow beneath his hooves.

“Facile là.” She cooed, running her hand down the horses mane.

The sudden snapping of branches alerted her to the presence of something nearby, (something something she turns, moves away from horse and spots whatever the fuck the thing is)

A deer appeared to be lost, separated from the rest of its family. The Huntress steadied herself, raising her rifle once more to set her sights on the beast.

Hesitation crept into her hands however, she had a perfect shot through and through - it would be a clean kill. Just before Amélie pressed the trigger, the shots rang out once more and sounded much closer than they had before. The deer bolted off further into the woods, leaving Amélie unsuccessful yet again.

Frenzied running caught her attention, she turned to address the blurred figure approaching her rapidly. Amélie raised her rifle to whatever was coming her way, ready to fire the moment it stepped into view, however it was not what she expected to see. 

A Witch of all things, stumbling through the thicket, holding herself up against a tree as her free hand clutched a painful looking wound she had on her abdomen.

The Huntress scarcely recognised the woman before her. But had it not been for the book clasped to the woman's side, she very well might have pulled the trigger.

“The Witch of the Wilds. A pleasure.” Amélie stated as she inspected the Witch's wounds.

Her greeting seemed to fall on deaf ears, for the Witch was focused on everything but her. Even when there was more than enough blood rushing from her to cause concern, her own wounds were paid no mind. Seemingly more concerned with whatever unseen evil had been chasing her through the forest in the first place, she continually checking back over her shoulder. 

The Witch caught her breath for a moment as she took in her surroundings now, eyeing the area she spotted the horse. Possibly her last chance at escaping the forest alive this night. Yet there was still the matter of the woman before her.

“Guillard, Surprised to find you here.” She sighed in relief.

The Huntress lowered her rifle as she stepped forward, scowling. “It's Lacroix.” 

The Witch smiled through her pain. “Always liked your old name more.”

She attempted to step forward but with a sharp cry of pain, she fell back against the tree huffing. Bringing her hand up from her stomach, she found crimson blood staining her glove before sapphire eyes glanced away from the blood and towards the Huntress. Surely she would be shown some mercy. 

“I need aid.” She managed to get out through harsh breaths.

Amélie scoffed at the Witch. “Can I not hunt in peace, Angela?” 

Glancing back down at the wound, she could see blood tainting the snow beneath the woman’s feet at an alarming rate. The Witch could only stare at her, wordlessly pleading for help. 

Amélie hesitated before packing up her rifle.

“They all think I'm dead, I won't risk exposure by helping you.” She affirmed.

As Angela’s final hope started walking away she found the strength to stand once more.

“These aren't- vampires chasing me, if that is what you are so afraid of.” Pausing for breath mid sentence, she made two steps towards Amélie who stopped in her tracks at that word.

Vampires...

Long had they been a threat to Aldersbruun, Gerard gave his very life stopping an infestation 7 years ago. Then when the creatures returned two years back, the King enlisted Amélie to bring an end to their scourge. And while there had not been any death or sighting relating to vampires in years, the threat they possessed still lingered. 

Amélie turned to face the critically wounded Witch, but she said nothing.

“They're hired mercenaries, I don't know what they want with me, please...I wouldn't be asking if I had any other option.” Angela sounded desperate. 

Taking another step, her legs began to give out from beneath her. Angela threw her hands out to break the fall but found that someone else had done it for her.

Catching the woman in her arms, Amélie took in just how beaten she looked. Cuts and tears littered the Witch’s attire, blood and dirt covered every inch of her frame. Amélie felt Angela’s body shaking with exhaustion, her breathing coming out harder with each second. As if such the simple task of drawing breath had become impossibly taxing upon her, she did not long for this world.

With a swift motion, she rid herself of her cloak and draped it around Angela’s shoulders. The warmth radiating from the thick cloth soothed the aching Witch and she let herself fall deeper into the comfort of the other woman's arms, if for but a brief moment.

Amélie nodded to herself, she would aid the Witch.

“There's nothing I can do for you here.” She stated, guiding the Witch to the horse’s side before securing her rifle case.

“You need medical aid immediately, I should have the adequate supplies at the chateau.”

Amélie stood up, lifting the Witch until she could support herself. She walked over to her horse before extending a gloved hand towards the Witch.

“Are you coming, Chaton?” She teased, lacing the pet name with as much seduction as she could.

The Witch said nothing, taking hold of the hand as graciously as she could. The Huntress aided her on to the horse and wrapped her thick cloak around her The Witch sighing heavily at the rush of heat. Amélie mounted the beast behind her and held their bodies close together as they began to depart.

Rushing through the forest on a horse at night through the harsh winter could only be described as unpleasant. Angela felt herself being knocked back and forth as the stallion twisted and turned along his path. The one comfort she had was Amélie’s voice whispering reassurance in her ear that they were going to make it. As her world began to spin, Angela felt herself slipping away, she did not long for this world and Amélie knew it. Raising their pace from a gallop to what felt like a full blown charge, Amelie made sure she would make it.

Across a lengthy bridge, the horse finally arrived at the chateau. Amélie left the horse, carrying Angela in her arms through the front door. The clacking of boots against the stone floor resonated throughout the castle-like walls as the Huntress took her stride.

The Witch was lowered onto Amélie's dining table, long dark wood stained in a very intense, very expensive vanish. Amélie hastefully swept all ornaments off the table to make room for the woman. Metal utensils as well as candlesticks crashed to the floor, but Amélie was in no state of mind to care.

She did not have time to properly prepare for surgery, nor was she equipped to perform it. But Amélie was the Witch’s only chance at survival now, so she would do her best.

Amélie retrieved implements from both her kitchen and bathroom, improvising with anything she could. An apron, sewing kit and varying sized blades were collected into a box for Amélie to carry out to the table.

Amélie had long found surgery to be an interest of hers, had she not met Gerard her life might have taken a different turn with her finishing her studies under the renowned Doctor Junkenstein. 

However fate would have it done differently, Amélie removed the bullet that had become stuck just beside the Witch’s kidney. She took great care in stitching the wound shut with a sewing kit that had been laying around for years untouched. As the threads pulled the hole closed she let out a sigh of relief. She finished by dressing the wound with a soft bandage treated with alcohol to prevent infection.

Post-surgery, Amélie calmly made her way into her washroom. blood soaked her hands and the apron she was wearing. All the Witch’s blood, too much of it was on her and not inside the Witch. Running her hands under the warm water Amélie cleaned the blood from her fingers. Applying soap to remove any presence of it from her hands. Placing her hands on the basin she sighed in frustration. After all of her efforts, the Witch could still die.

Satisfied that the Witch wouldn't succumb to her wound, Amélie cleaned any blood off the woman before carrying her to the chesterfield resting in front of an open fire. 

Amélie took the cloak she had covering the Witch earlier in the woods to cover her again on the chesterfield now, until her body temperature returned to normal.

Amélie set off to prepare a meal for the Witch, it appeared as if she had not eaten in days. 

Amélie reached up and took out an old leather bound recipe book, too long had it been since she had cooked for someone else, she settled on making a soup.

As the soup simmered Amélie went to find the Witch something to wear, there would not be any time today to wash her garb and Amélie would not leave a woman naked in her own home. She gathered some comfortable clothes and one of her white undershirts before heading back downstairs.

The clothes were left in a folded pile beside where the Witch rested, Amélie could see some colour returning to her face, at the very least she wasn't going paler. Amélie left a glass of water on the table as she returned to her cooking.

Amélie was taking a big risk rescuing the Witch from her fate. Whomever was hunting her would come to the realisation that the Witch had been aided, and Amélie feared that might lead back to her home. There was also the small matter of her payment. ‘Whatever her heart desired’, such a dangerous deal to make, yet perhaps she could make something more of it. 

As the pot began to bubble over Amélie's attention was briefly returned to her cooking, the soup still needed time, but there were still more preparations to make.

Amélie took one last glance at the sleeping Witch. How could something go through such lengths to hurt this woman? She decided then that as long as the Witch remained at the chateau, she would have Amélie’s protection.

She just hoped that whatever had been chasing the Witch had lost their trail.


End file.
